Professor Layton and the Seer
by EmeraldWings1992
Summary: Despite his beloved apprentice moving away, the Professor continues with his life full of adventure and mystery with, Flora as his assistant. When they receive a letter from Monte d'Or asking them to investigate a string of "murders, they meet a brilliant, mysterious kid, Alfendi Smith. But what exactly does this poor kid have to do with it all? DONE
1. Monte d'Or Once More

**A/N:** Okay, here's the next story! For my usual readers, this one happens ten years previous to "The Venrin Band," and right after "The Golden Turnabout." For my new readers, you don't have to read either of those stories to understand this one. This is a few months after "Unwound Future" though, and contains spoilers to all games, including "Layton Brothers."

Alfendi is 4 (though with a much more advanced mind for his age), Flora is 14, and Layton is 37.

Miracle Mask was my favorite Layton game… With Unwound Future right up there (Probably because both reveal the most about Layton himself).

I was going to write this from Layton's POV… then decided against it.

…

Chapter One: Monte d'Or Once More

The city of Monte d'Or was brightly lit in neon, a parade making its way down the street to the delight of many spectators.

"Wow! So this is Monte d'Or!?" a young woman, Flora Reinhold, gasped from next to her guardian and companion, her wide eyes taking everything in.

Professor Hershel Layton smiled warmly at her, feeling a vague sense of déjà vu. "Indeed. In only twenty years, this little desert oasis has grown into quite a tourist attraction," he explained, adjusting his ever present top hat with a smile on his face, remembering his last investigation in this city. "Amazing, don't you think? Some people even call it the City of Miracles." he said. Flora looked up at him before noticing all of the balloons being released into the air.

"The City of Miracles…" she breathed, following the professor as he began to walk again. Her eyes, again, were caught by the colorful playfulness of the parade and the city.

"There's so much to look at here, Professor!" she exclaimed. The professor smiled, looking over at her.

"Yes. Monte d'Or is quite an exciting town," he agreed. Flora's face turned thoughtful as she pulled a piece of paper from her bag, slowing to a halt, forcing the professor to do the same so they wouldn't be separated.

"The letter you received said some terrible things happened here. That's hard to believe…" she mused, studying the letter. The professor cupped his chin in thought, though he knew it was easier to believe if one knew the history of the city.

"We'll have a better understanding of the situation after we speak to Angela," he said, the déjà vu feeling even stronger.

"Do you know where her estate is?" Flora asked. The professor smiled warmly.

"Yes. We should be able to see it just past this street," he told her, motioning in the direction he meant. Flora nodded, following the professor as he began to move once more.

"This town is like one big amusement park!" Flora sighed.

"It certainly is lively," the professor agreed with a warm smile.

"I know what you and Luke have told me, about the last time you were here, but how could anything bad happen in a place so bright and colorful, Professor?" she asked.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Flora," the professor said seriously. "Only a thorough analysis will reveal a thorough conclusion."

"Of course, Professor," Flora said, before clasping her hands together excitedly. "Let's begin right away!"

"Of course, my dear! Bur Monte d'Or is large and very crowded, especially around this time of year. Be sure to stick close to me, so that we won't become separated," he warned. Flora paled slightly at the thought and nodded, moving closer to her guardian.

After weaving around more people, Flora gasped, looking up. "Whoa… Professor, look at that clown!" she cried, pointing to a large parade balloon being guided by many clowns clinging to its support ropes. Even more balloons were released, and Flora let out an excited squeal, getting caught up in the moment.

"This is wonderful! Everyone is having a good time, Professor!" she said, skipping forward as they two began to walk again.

"They are," the professor agreed. "And I'm looking forward to doing the same… after our investigation," he added as a gentle reminded to the young girl.

Almost instantly, her skipping calmed to a walk.

"Oh, right… the investigation…" she mumbled.

"Once we're able to relax, I can show you what the town has to offer," the professor promised. Just then screams erupted from the direction they had just come. Everyone turned that way, before surging towards the source.

The professor quickly caught Flora's hand too keep them from getting separated, and pulled her out of the way of the crowd.

"The people! They're floating" someone yelled.

"Floating?" the professor asked softly, before frowning and running forward. "Quickly!" he called back to Flora, who made sure to stick close to him.

People were, indeed floating. Some looked as though they were swimming in midair, others were playfully pushing each other around. Most of the spectators stayed on the ground, watching those above them in awe. The professor slowed to a halt, looking around in confusion. "What on earth is going on here?" he mused in confusion.

"Professor!" Flora suddenly gasped, pointing towards the roof of a building. "Look up there!"

"What on earth…?" the professor asked, confusion rolling through him. Sure enough, there stood the last person he ever expected to see again.

"One, two, three four… Did you miss me, Monte d'Or?"

It was just like before, cloak and cane included. The only thing missing were the statues in the streets.

And… the fear…

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! I hope you enjoyed tonight's light miracle, courtesy of the Masked Gentleman!"

"Light miracle? Randall?" the Professor mused in confusion. A light wind blew the platinum blond hair of his wig as the masked face stared down at them all.

"Consider what you have seen tonight as just the beginning. Monte d'Or will soon see the show of a lifetime. Those who submit to the power of the mask may be submerged into a world of magic and mystery… but then again, they may be not." At this, the Masked Gentleman collapsed his cane, and his cloak became a pair of snowy white wings. Calmly, he jumped off the roof, dove down, and over the heads of the still grounded spectators. Those in the air drifted gently to the ground, and everyone watched after the masked man as he flew over the city. The professor quickly looked around before spotting a horse.

"Come now, Flora, quickly!" he said, running over and pulling himself into the saddle. He then reached down and pulled Flora up, allowing her to get situated behind him, before snapping the reigns. "Yah!" he yelled, and the horse took off after the Masked Gentleman.

Flora clung to the professor as he urged the horse faster through the streets, pursuing the Masked Gentleman, who flew lazily ahead, doing summersaults every now and again. Eventually, he threw two smoke bombs at the two. Unlike last time, the professor urged his horse through it, only to come out with the same result as before.

The Masked Gentleman was gone. The only sign that he'd ever been there was his white cloak, drifting lazily to the ground. Professor Layton sighed, stopping the horse and dismounting before turning to help Flora down.

"He got away!" Flora gasped in surprise once her feet were on the ground.

"Yes, he had quite an advantage over us. Just like last time," the professor said, crossing his arms.

"Was he using some sort of magic, Professor? How did he do all that?" Flora asked, looking up at her guardian. The professor shook his head with a patient smile.

"Of course not, Flora. Each trick you saw was just that – a trick," he explained, before frowning. "Although, I do not understand why he has become the Masked Gentleman once more…" he sighed. Flora looked up at her guardian, who shrugged.

"Come, Flora. Let's find Ascot Estate. I am sure my questions will find answers there," he said. The two walked through the city of Monte d'Or until they reached the center and the highest peak of the city, where the Akbadain monument stood. Just behind it was a large house, looking much like a mansion, surrounded by a fence.

"Ascot Estate?" Flora asked, only to get a nod from the professor as he walked forward, knocking on the door. A moment later, a tall man, about the same height as the professor, with red hair and glasses, answered the door. Flora gasped when noticing that he was wearing the same white suit as the Masked Gentleman.

"Hershel!" he said in delight, grabbing the professor's hands and pulling him in.

"Randall. I knew that was you beneath the mask," the professor said. Randall Ascot grinned warmly at his old friend.

"I knew you knew when you gave chase!" he countered, drawing him further into the house. Flora followed after, confused.

"Why, Randall? I thought the days of the Masked Gentleman were behind you," the professor asked.

"Because the people of Monte d'Or wanted the thrill and excitement that only the Masked Gentleman could bring them!" Randall said with a grin. "But don't worry, Hershel, no more Dark Miracles. My shows bring awe and excitement to the people, but I don't hurt – or make it seem like I hurt – people anymore," Randall explained. Layton shook his head.

"I never thought that, Randall." He sighed. "You just can't drop that dramatic flare, can you?"

"Of course not, old friend!" he replied, before looking between Layton and Flora. "So, who is this?"

"Ah, excuse my rudeness. Randall, this is my charge and assistant, Flora Reinhold. Flora, this is my old, childhood friend, Randall Ascot,' he said. Flora smiled warmly, shaking the man's hand.

"It's nice to meet you!" she said.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied, before looking between the two. "So, to what do I owe this unexpected, but welcome visit?" he asked, leading the two into the parlor.

"Angela, actually," Layton said as Flora produced the letter. "She asked me to come. Flora, my dear, do you mind reading it out loud?"

"Of course, Professor," she said before clearing her throat.

"' _Dea_ _ **R**_ _Hershel,_

 _How h_ _ **A**_ _ve you bee_ _ **N**_ _? Things have calme_ _ **D**_ _down here in Monte d'Or. Or_ _ **A**_ _t_ _ **L**_ _east, it did._

 _Recent_ _ **L**_ _y, there has been a str_ _ **I**_ _ng of murder_ _ **S**_ _, all unsolved, but somehow_ _ **CONNECTED**_ _. I'm scared and I need your help. I fear for Monte d'Or, especially with the carnival coming up._

 _Henry and Randall are worried as well, and_ _ **T**_ _hey have been w_ _ **O**_ _rking around the clock wi_ _ **TH**_ _Ch_ _ **I**_ _ef_ _ **S**_ _heffield and the police in an effort to solve this latest puzzle but it's not enough. We need you, Hershel._

 _I look forward to seeing you soon._

 _Love,_

 _Angela Ascot.'"_

"Oh, Angela," Randall sighed softly. "It's true though. I fear there is a serial killer on the loose in Monte d'Or," he admitted, sitting forward as he loosened his purple cravat. The professor put a hand to his chin.

"I found Angela's second message to be much more intriguing," he admitted. Randall looked up at him.

"Her second message?"

"Yes. Why don't you see if you can find it, Randall?" he asked with a smile, remembering a time when the tables were turned, and Randall was constantly giving him the puzzles. Flora handed Angela's letter over, and Randall studied it. His eyes flickered over the words, noticing the odd pattern of capitalized and darker letters.

Suddenly, he saw the hidden message.

"Wha?" he gasped.

"' _Randall is connected with this.'"_ The professor quoted, before studying his friend. "Was that what you found?"

"Y-yes, but…

"Randall… what is going on here?" Layton asked, looking at his old friend. Randall sighed, shaking his head.

"I… can't say."

…

 **A/N:** And thus the ending of the first chapter! Yes, the beginning of this was supposed to mirror the beginning of "Miracle Mask." The reason Randall didn't know Flora was because his and Angela's wedding happened BEFORE Curious Village, and with everything else going on with Layton (Curious Village to Unwound Future, plus the mystery he and Luke solved in the beginning of Eternal Diva including Big Ben), he hadn't really had time to visit Monte d'Or once Flora entered the picture.

Don't worry, Alfendi will enter the picture in chapter two!

And what on earth can Randall be hiding?


	2. The Prophet

**A/N:** I'm back! Real fast, in the first chapter's AN, I meant to say this happens right after "The Professor's Assistant," not "The Golden Turnabout." Thank you, WolfieRed23, for pointing that out to me!

Before anyone yells at me for Layton being OOC in this chapter, let me remind you of three things. One: Randall can talk anyone into anything. Two: Layton would do almost anything for an investigation/to solve a puzzle. Three: He dressed up as a freaking duck in Azran Legacy.

It might be a little odd for Professor Layton, but I really don't think its OOC, especially when combined with Randall.

Well, here we go!

…

Chapter Two: The Prophet

Professor Layton stared as his friend in shock, surprised by his words.

"You… can't say? What do you mean, you can't say? Randall, what on earth is going on here?" he asked. Randall pulled off his gloves as he paced thoughtfully.

"Exactly as I said, Hershel. I can't say. This affects more then just myself."

"Randall, Angela asked me to come investigate these murders to help you and Hen—" The professor cut himself off as he realized something. "Does Henry even know what you're hiding?"

"No. No one does. A… a lot of trust…" he trailed off, looking at Professor Layton, a curious gleam in his eye.

"What?" Layton asked, recognizing that gleam.

"Maybe there's a way…" he mused, putting a hand to his chin, a smirk playing at his lips. Flora looked between her guardian and his friend, sensing an old routine at play here.

"Randall?" the professor asked.

"Alright, Hershel, I'll make you a deal," Randall said with a grin. "I will tell you what I'm hiding… if you best me in a fencing match."

"A fencing match? At a time like this?"

"And what better time is there?" Randall asked with a grin. "I've heard you've become quite good with a sword since our last match, Hershel, and I want to see it for myself."

"'Become'?" the professor asked, slipping back into his teenage self for a moment. "Remind me again, Randall, who was it that save you from the mechanic mummies back in those ruins?"

"Forget about that," Randall countered. "I want to face you again, and in front of an audience!"

"Come again?"

"The Mask of Chaos faces the Mask of Order for the first time in a high-wire dual… to the death! I, of course, would wear that of Chaos, while you would wear the Mask of Order. What do you say, Hershel?" he turned back to his friend. Professor Layton had a hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"There is one issue with that, Randall. I have no interest in putting on a show for the people of Monte d'Or."

"Oh, come on, Hershel! It'll be just like old times. And if you win, I'll tell you everything."

"But—"

"Please, Hershel? Please?" Randall leaned forward, his face mere inches away from the professor's. Layton tried to find the words – tried to argue.

"But… I…. oh alright."

…

Later that night, Professor Layton found himself on top of a building, inspecting the cane Randall gave him. Inside was a sword, the one he would face Randall with. He also wore a suit quite different then his normal one – a black version of Randall's white, with an orange cravat and a swirling, black cloak. On top of his head, of course, was his beloved top hat, and on his face, the Mask of Order.

Across the courtyard, on another building, was Randall, wearing the completed Mask. Spanning the space between the two of them was a wire, invisible to their audience below.

When the professor had asked about a safety wire, or a net, Randall had finally revealed the secret behind his wings.

"It's a glider pack, see Hershel? I wear it under the cloak, and when I activate it, the cloak is sucked in. I have one in black for you to wear."

The professor finished checking over his pack, when a commotion arose from their intended audience below.

"One, two, three four. Look whose returned, back for more," Randall said as he walked comfortably along the wire, twirling his cane. Hershel was suddenly struck with inspiration, stemming from the second time he met the Masked Gentleman, in a setting almost exactly like this. Taking a deep breath, and hoping he could look as comfortable as Randall does on that wire, he stepped out, dropping a flash popper to catch everyone's attention.

"Five, six, seven eight. No one can escape their fate," as he talked, the professor carefully walked out onto the wire. Randall was surprised for a moment, but quickly recovered, swapping the complete mask out for a replica of the Mask of Chaos.

"The Gentleman of Order has come to defeat me?" he gasped

"It is time to put your reign of chaos to an end!" Layton replied, pointing at Randall, who unsheathed his sword, dropping the sheath, the cane, towards the audience below. Hershel did the same, getting in a fencer's stance.

"We will see about that!" he yelled, rushing forward. Layton managed to keep his balance on the bouncing wire, and blocked a blow from Randall, before ducking under another strike and thrusting his sword upwards into his stomach.

Both men had decided that falling off the wire would be 'death,' and had made sure the swords they used were blunted. While Randall had the advantage of being used to walking on the wire, Layton had his in the eighteen years of practice while Randall was farming.

The two matched each other, blow for blow, but Layton could tell Randall was getting tired. He decided to try something a little more risky.

Using his own body weight,, Layton bounced the wire, throwing Randall off balance. He wind-milled his arms, and his sword struck Layton's shoulder, sending his sideways the other way.

Both fell off the wire as the same time. Both sets of glider wings snapped out, and the men glided away.

…

"That was amazing, Hershel! You're a natural!" Randall cheered, thumping his friend on the back when they met up in a secluded alleyway. Hershel chuckled.

"That was quite… fun. But really, Randall, I was inspired by you," he replied, reaching up to remove the mask. Randall caught his wrist.

"Keep it on," he hissed.

"What?"

"Masked Gentleman?" a young voice called from the entrance of the alleyway. Randall's eyes grew grim, and he turned to the young boy. Hershel turned as well, taking in the kid's appearance.

He was young, perhaps around four, with unruly, red hair and piercing, intellegent amber eyes. He was a little tall for his age, and painfully thin and lanky, wearing clothes about three sizes too big for him.

"Yes?" Randall ask. The kid's eyes, however, were trained on Hershel.

"Wh-who is he?" he asked. Layton smiled warmly at the young boy.

"I am—"

"The Gentleman of Order," Randall said, reminding the Professor that he was in character. "He is trustworthy."

The young boy studied Layton a moment longer, before nodding.

"Alright." He turned to Randall, who moved closer, coming to eye level with the boy. "I am 98.7 percent sure… that in Chance Avenue, there will be another murder. Tonight."

…

 **A/N:** DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN!

Three guesses as to who the kid at the end is!


	3. The Fourth Victim

**A/N:** Chapter three is a go!

I want to thank everyone who reviewed on this story. It's been a bit since I've had more then one person review on a story (Thank you, WolfieRed23!)

Well, here we go!

…

Chapter Three: The Fourth Victim

Randall's eye grew even grimmer behind the Mask of Chaos, while Layton grew curious.

"How do you know this, my boy?" he asked, dropping to one knee to be eyelevel with the boy. The kid, however, shook his head, a guarded, and slightly fearful look in his eye.

"I have to go." He looked up at Randall. "Remember, Chance Avenue." With that, the boy turned on his heel and ran as hard and fast as he could. Layton rose to his feet, looking over Randall.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"I don't know. He's never told me his name," Randall admitted, pulling the Mask of Chaos off. Layton removed his and handed it back to his friend. "But from the first murder on, he's come to 'The Masked Gentleman' and predicted them. Each time, he's been correct."

"And you couldn't say because of the amount of trust he's put in you. That's why you wanted me here tonight," Layton said as the pieces of that particular puzzle fell into place.

"Exactly. But enough talk. We need to go find Chief Sheffield."

"Alright."

The two men quickly made their way to the police station, where Randall found the chief of police ordering around his almost identical officers.

"Sheffield!" Randall called, striding towards his. The man turned to face him.

"Ascot. What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?" the man barked.

"There will be another murder, tonight. Chance Avenue," Randall quickly explained.

"How do you know about this?" Sheffield demanded, his little beady eyes narrowing.

"I can't say. You know that. Come on, this is no time to be dragging your feet," Randall replied. Sheffield studied him once more before nodding, barking orders to his officers. They quickly jumped to his command, and soon, the police force was mobilized and on its way to Chance Avenue.

…

A small crowd had already gathered, and when Sheffield, Randall, and Layton pushed their way through, they saw that they were too late.

A middle aged man lay in a pool of blood, a hole in his chest, at his heart.

He was dead.

"You were right once more, Ascot. But yet again, the warning came too late," Sheffield growled suspiciously, looking over at the ginger. Randall sighed, dropping to one knee next to the man and closing his eyelids, not taking any notice of Sheffield's tone.

Professor Layton, on the other hand, cupped his chin in thought, studying the crime scene.

"Professor!" a voice suddenly called.

"Hershel! Randall!" another called at the same time. Both men turned to see Flora and a blond woman running over to them.

"Angela!" Randall called, waving her over.

"We came as soon as we heard," Angela said, glancing between the two men before noticing the corpse. She gasped, covering her mouth, turning another shade paler. Randall wrapped his arms around her, pulling her head gently into his shoulder.

Flora turned a shade of green when noticing the body as well.

"Randall," Layton said, wrapping his arm around Flora. "Why don't you take the ladies back to your estate?" he said. After a moment, Randall nodded, gently taking Flora and leading the two away. The professor turned back to the scene while the police pushed the gawking crowd back, sectioning a perimeter off.

"Layton, is that you?" Sheffield barked, seeming to notice the professor for the first time.

"Yes. Hello, Chief," he said, looking up at the man.

"Hrm…" the man looked at the professor for a few minutes, before remembering the last time he helped with an investigation.

"Perhaps you can help with this," he mused.

"That is why Angela called me here," Layton said with a smile. Sheffield nodded thoughtfully, before motioning to the corpse.

"This is the fourth victim. Each one killed in the same way, a single shot to the heart," Sheffield explained.

"Is there a connection between the victims?" The professor asked.

"We're not sure about this one, of course, but each were locals, not tourists, who lived on one street – Seedy Street," Sheffield explained. "Also… Ascot knew of each and every murder, starting from the beginning. Of course, he'd tell us, but the we're always seconds late."

"Yes, well, I'm sure Randall is getting his information from somewhere," Professor Layton said, his mind flashing back to the kid from last night. He shook his head slightly. "Have your officers talked to the residents of Seedy Street?" he asked.

"What do you take me for, Layton!?" Sheffield demanded. "Of course I've sent my officers to Seedy Street. Unfortunately… everyone there tends to clam up when an officer is around…"

"Hm…"

"Chief Sheffield, sir!" an officer called, running over to the two men. "We've identified the victim. Brandy Mixer, bartender of The Watering Hole."

"That fits into the killer's Modus Operandi," Sheffield murmured.

"'The Watering Hole'?" Professor Layton asked.

"A bar on Seedy Street," Sheffield sighed.

"It really does seem like a you have a serial murderer on your hands," Layton said thoughtfully, cupping his chin in thought.

…

 **A/N:** Short, yes, but important! More investigation next chapter!


	4. Seedy Street

**A/N:** Here comes the next chapter!

…

Chapter Four: Seedy Street

That night, Randall and Angela let Hershel and Flora stay at the estate. The next morning, Hershel entered the kitchen to find Flora talking to Angela over breakfast.

"My, you two seem to have hit it off," he said with a warm smile, putting a hand on Flora's shoulder and giving it a fatherly squeeze.

"Oh, Hershel! Good morning!" Angela said with a warm smile.

"G'morning, Professor!" Flora added brightly. "Mrs. Ascot was just telling me about your adventures in Stansbury with her and Mr. Ascot."

"Was she now?" Layton asked, chuckling at the memories.

"Yes! Is it true that you used to have big hair?" Flora asked innocently, causing Angela to laught more. Hershel chuckled at that.

"Yes. It was a very… youthful hairstyle," he admitted.

"Imagine my surprise when I saw that top hat instead!" Randall said, stepping into the kitchen. "It was almost like we had swapped hairstyles, right Hershel?" Rather then The Masked Gentleman's suit, Randall wore a purple waist coat over a white shirt, dark green slacks, and black loafers. Under his arm was a set of thick books, and he placed a bag next to his chair.

"Quite," the professor agreed, reaching over and picking up one of the books Randall placed on the table. "Hmm… this looks like one of the books I've assigned my graduate classes," he mused. Randall grinning.

"That wouldn't surprise me, Hershel. I'm attending Monte d'Or University as an Archeologist Graduate Student," he admitted with a grin, taking the book back and adding it to his pile.

"Ah. Hoping to get your Masters?"

"And my doctorate, after that," Randall said with a grin. "After all, becoming a world famous Archeologist has always been my dream."

One of the Ascot's servants placed plates of breakfast in front of both Randall and Layton, earning thanks from both of them. Once they were done eating, Randall headed out for class. Angela looked over at Layton.

"Hershel… my letter—"

"I understood the second message in it, Angela," The professor said soothingly. "There is no need to worry about that. As for Randall, you have no need to worry about him either."

"Are you sure, Hershel? He's just… whenever there's a murder, he knows of it before the body is found. And it's almost like… he's shut us out," Angela sighed, fingering a pendent around her neck. The professor sighed softly, reaching over and patting her hand.

"Randall is getting his information from someone who would… prefer not to be known. A lot of trust is being placed in him," the professor asked.

"Has he told you this?" Angela asked, sounding hurt.

"No. When we had finished out… show last night, the informant came to us."

"Oh."

"So, Professor, what are we going to do today?" Flora asked.

"Well, so far, each victim has been a residence of Seedy Street. I thought we would start our investigation there," the professor said.

"Okay!" Flora said with a wide smile, happy, for once, that she wasn't beling left behind.

…

Once they were done eating, the pair made their way to Seedy Street. It was crowded, like the rest of Monte d'Or, but that's where the similarities ended. Litter and people crowded the street, a lot of them shady characters.

"Stay close, my dear," Professor Layton said, adjusting his hat. Flora nodded.

"Yes, Professor," she said, moving closer. The professor walked over to a group and tried to talk to them. The locals were more then willing to talk… until he asked about the murders.

Without fail, whenever the topic of the murders was broached, the locals would clam up, attempt to change the topic, or suddenly remember something important they had to tend to immediately.

The professor sighed as yet another local ran off.

"Professor… I don't think we're going to get any information…" Flora said.

"It would seem that way, my dear," he replied. He then spotted a man whose sharp eyes seemed to be taking in everything. "Let us try once more, though." He walked over to a tall, painfully thin man with messy, scarlet hair and sharp angry amber eyes. The professor couldn't help but think that he looked familiar.

The man took a drag from his cigarette before noticing the duo coming over to him.

"What?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes. Flora gripped the back of Layton's suit jacket, the man scaring her.

"Good afternoon, sir," the professor said, tipping his hat towards the man. "Might I inquire as to if you live here?"

"Would I be in this hellhole if I didn't?" the man snapped, causing Flora to gasp softly at the swear.

"O-of course," the professor said, covering his eyes with the brim of his hat. "I just had a few questions."

"I don't have the time." The man pushed off of the wall he was leaning against and put the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe before flicking it into the street.

"It won't take but a moment, sir," the professor quickly said. "It's about the murders of Seedy Street residents – a matter of life and death."

"Oh, how dramatic," the man laughed, before shaking his head, scowling. "I don't have any information for you. Why don't you ask the incompetent police?" with that, the man turned sharply and walked away from the duo.

"Well, now what, professor?" Flora asked. Layton, on the other hand, was watching after the man, cupping his chin in thought.

"Now, we explore the rest of the city and try to find a lead," the professor finally announced with a sigh.

"If I was yous two, I wouldn't mess with him again," a voice said to the professor's left. The two turned to see a short, chunky man watching after the man.

"Who was he?"

"Fallerd Smith, one of the meanest men to live in Monte d'Or. I would watch yourself around him," the man said before walking away.

"Fallerd Smith… I'll remember that," the professor muttered to himself.

…

 **A/N:** And the end of another chapter! Who is Fallerd Smith?

Keep reading to find out!


	5. Alfendi

**A/N:** Okay, in my mind, Alfendi was kind of meek before something that made him snap and turned him into "Potty Prof." That's why he seems so "OOC" in this chapter/story. He hasn't hit his snapping point yet.

He will in this story though, no worries.

Now, ONWARD!

…

Chapter Five: Alfendi

Professor Layton and Flora walked through the city of Monte d'Or, looking around at everything. The professor was deep in thought, trying to figure out where they would find their next lead.

"Oh, look Professor! And ice cream parlor!" Flora said excitedly, spotting the neat, small building. "May we stop for ice cream? Please?"

"Hm…" the professor looked over at the building before smiling. "Alright," he relented, leading the girl in.

It was a small building with a few tables scattered around the dinning room, decorated with red and white stripes. A few teenagers sat at the scattered tables, enjoying an after school sundae, while two people wearing hats and aprons talked behind the counter.

It was the young boy sitting alone at the corner table, that caught the professor's attention though. He recognized him as the same boy who warned Randall and himself of the murder.

Professor Layton gave Flora some money.

"Go get what you would like, my dear. I will join you soon," he said.

"Oh, um… yes, Professor," she said, walking up to the counter. The professor, on the other hand, walked over to the solitary boy.

"May I join you, young man?" he asked. The red haired boy looked up from his Banana Split in surprise, his eyes growing wide with surprise.

"Um… sure?" he answered. Smiling, the professor sat across from him.

"I am Professor Hershel Layton. What might your name be?" he asked. The boy studied the man in front of him for a few more moments before dropping his eyes to his ice cream.

"A-Alfendi," he said softly. He then looked up at Hershel again. "You… you are the Gentleman of Order… right?" he asked. Layton started slightly in surprise, before smiling.

"Yes, I am. How did you come to that conclusion, my boy?"

"Your hat." Alfendi's eyes dropped back to his ice cream, and the professor suddenly connected him to another person he met today.

Fallerd Smith.

 _So, Alfendi must be his son…_ the professor thought, a hand to his chin.

Just them Flora came over, holding an ice cream cone.

"Professor?" she asked.

"Ah, Flora. This is Alfendi. Alfendi, this is my charge, Flora," he introduced. Alfendi looked up once more, staring at the girl, who smiled warmly back at him.

"Y-you can sit, too…" he said, and Flora obliged. The professor studied the young boy once more, sensing a brilliant mind just beneath the surface. A smile crossed his face as he thought of another young man he'd met who also had a brilliant mind.

"Alfendi, my boy. Do you like puzzles?" the professor asked. Alfendi looked at him, his amber eyes confused.

"Puzzles? I can't say I've ever tried one…" he admitted. Layton's smile grew.

"Well then, would you like to?" he offered. Alfendi sat up a little straighter, interest entering his eyes.

"Sure."

"Alright then, my boy. Here we go:

' _With pointed fangs I sit and wait,_

 _With piercing force I crunch out fate,_

 _Grabbing victims, proclaiming might,_

 _Physically joining with a single bite._

 _What am I?'_ "

Alfendi closed his eyes, repeating the riddle in a whisper over and over, the gears in his mind spinning as he worked out the solution to the lines.

Flora gasped softly, figuring out the answer, but the professor glanced at her, a silent warning to stay quite. He was curious as to if Alfendi could find the answer, and he knew the boy would be much happier if he were the one to announce it.

"Hm…" Alfendi hummed, catching their attention. His head suddenly snapped, and he pointed at the professor. "I am 99.2 percent sure that the object is a stapler!" he announced.

"Wonderful, my boy!" the professor said with a warm smile. "You are correct!"

Alfendi rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

"That was fun…" he admitted.

"Yes. Puzzles can be quite fun," the professor agreed.

"How'd you get into puzzles, Professor?" Alfendi asked.

"An old friend of mine, Randall Ascot—"

"You mean The Masked Gentleman?" Alfendi asked, cutting the professor off, who looked at him in shock. Most citizens of Monte d'Or didn't know Randall was the Masked Gentleman, first done to protect him from the angered citizens, after his last (and thankfully failed) 'Dark Miracle.' The fact that this young boy figured it out was short of miraculous in the professor's mind, especially since he would have only been a one year old when The Masked Gentleman first appeared in Monte d'Or.

"Why, yes. The Masked Gentleman. He taught me all about puzzles, and how each one always has a solution. I dare say, since then, I've become an avid puzzler."

"Yeah… I've read about that…" he said, pulling a scrap of newspaper from his pocket. It was a very old article, the professor saw, detailing his adventures in Misthallary. However, his attention was drawn to the boy's wrist, rather then the newspaper.

There was a deep, dark bruise, usually hidden by the sleeve of his dark blue jumper, but now visible as the sleeve pulled back when he rose his hand. The bruise itself seemed to be in the shape of a hand, almost like someone had grabbed Alfendi roughly, and a little too tightly.

"Alfendi, my boy, what happened to your wrist?" the professor asked. Alfendi's eyes grew wide, and his demeanor, which had become open and friendly, suddenly slammed closed and became guarded once more. He yanked his arm back to his chest, like he'd been burned, and grew a few shades paler.

"N-nothing…" he quickly stammered, before jumping to his feet. "I… I have to go!" He suddenly bolted out the door, Layton, Flora, and the employees watching after him.

"Should we follow him, Professor?" Flora asked. Layton, on the other hand, sighed, closing his eyes and tugging the brim of his hat over them.

"No, my dear. He got scared when I asked about the bruise… Following him now would only make matters worse for him, I fear."

…

 **A/N:** Finally, we get to fully meet Alfendi! I'm sure I made it obvious as to what's going on, but whose to say for sure? (Except Wolfie, since I told you what happened!)


	6. The Fifth Victim

**A/N:** Another chapter down! I'm on a roll! Especially since, after this chapter, there will only be four chapters left!

Well, enough talk! ONWARD!

…

Chapter Six: The Fifth Victim

Despite searching the rest of the day, Layton and Flora were unable to gain anymore leads. Randall wanted to join in the investigation, but had a lot of reading he had to do for class before the parade tonight.

That's why they found themselves next to Angela and Henry at that night's parade, none the wiser about this case.

"You can't think of anything, Hershel?" Henry asked, crossing his arms. The professor sighed, tugging the brim of his hat over his eyes.

"Unfortunately, no. It seems as though everyone of Seedy Street are too scared to talk, and no one in the actual city itself seems to know anything. Some don't even know the names of the victims," he admitted, cupping his chin. "There is… one person I suspect, but…" he shook his head. "I don't have enough proof."

"Now what?" Angela asked. "If we don't hurry, more people will die…"

"We will figure it out, Angela. Do not worry," the professor said. Flora nodded her agreement, a determined look crossing her face as well.

Just then, Randall appeared over the crowd, ready to perform another Light Miracle. The group watched as he performed his 'magic,' until something else caught the Professor's eye.

Alfendi, hovering near the edge of the crows, seeming to search for something.

"Excuse me," he said softly. "Flora, stay with Henry and Angela. I'll be right back," he promised, before making his way through the crowed. Spotting him, Alfendi darted over, though the professor's heart sank when he noticed a bruise forming on Alfendi's slightly swollen cheek.

"Alfendi, my boy. What happened to your cheek?" he asked softly. Alfendi shook his head.

"Forget about that, Professor. A murder will happen, tonight, in front of Pumpkin Park," he said. The professor's eyes hardened at the thought.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"96.9 percent sure," Alfendi confirmed. Adjusting his hat, the professor stood.

"I must go, then," he said. Alfendi grabbed his hand to keep him from running off.

"Wait!" he gasped. The professor looked back to see the fear in the boy's eyes. "It might be dangerous!"

"Alfendi," Professor Layton said gently, kneeling to his eye level. "Despite the danger, I must go. After all, it is the duty of a true gentleman to help someone in need. If I am able to save this person, then I must," he explained. Alfendi stared at him, absorbing his words, before slowly letting go of him. "Please, alert Randall as soon as you can," the professor added, before running off, into the direction of Pumpkin Park.

Due to everyone being crowded on Parade Way, the streets of Monte d'Or were virtually empty, allowing the professor ample time to reach his destination.

 _BANG!_

The professor jumped, his heart sinking, at the noise as he looked around. To the side of the gate, just around the corner of the fence, was a shadowy being that turned and fled.

"Wait!" the professor yelled, dashing in that direction. He was too late, however. By the time he reached that location, the figure was gone, and he had no idea in which direction the man went. Giving vent to a sad sigh, the professor turned to the newest victim.

He was short, chunky fellow. In fact, as the professor knelt to get a better look, he realized it was the same man who had earlier warned him and Flora of Fallerd Smith.

"Hershel! Where are you?" Randall's voice drifted from the entrance of the square in front of the Amusement Park. Another sigh escaped the victim as he stood and moved into the light.

"Over here, Randall!" he called. Randall, along with Chief Sheffield, Henry, Angela, Flora, and multiple officers, came over. "I was just a second too late," he admitted, motioning back to the motionless corpse. One of the officers gently held Angela and Flora back while the rest of the men moved forward to inspect the body.

"Did you see the killer, Layton?" Sheffield demanded.

"Unfortunately, no, just his shadowy figure. All I can say is that he was tall and skinny, but even then, I can be mistaken," the professor explained. One of the officers gasped, dropping to his next to the man.

"No…" he gasped.

"Officer Formant? Do you know this man?" Sheffield asked. The officer looked up, his eyes wide.

"Y-yes. Ian Formant… my brother, and an informant for the police" the man said. Sheffield sighed softly.

"Lived on Seedy Street, did he?"

"Y-yes…"

"Alright, Officer. I understand this had been a shock for you. Head home," he ordered.

"But… I…" another sigh. "Yes sir."

"Well, that takes care of identifying the body," the Chief grumbled, rubbing his chin. "If only identifying the perp was so easy."

"Sir!" another man suddenly called. Chief Sheffield and the group turned to face him, only to find the officer holding up a strand of red hair.

"Another one?" the chief of police asked.

"Yes, sir! Just like the rest of the crime scenes!"

"Alright, that clinches it." He suddenly turned on Randall.

"Randall Ascot, you're under arrest for suspicion of murder on five accounts," Sheffield announced, slapping handcuffs on the man. Randall gasped in shock.

"What!?"

"NO!" Angela cried.

"Sheffield, this is madness! You know Randall would never do this!" Henry snapped, jumping to his best friend's defense.

"Shut it, Ledore! We have our reasoning and evidence!" Sheffield snapped.

"Care to share, Chief?" Layton asked, crossing his arms.

"Since the beginning, Ascot has known the location and time of each murder, but has always led us there minutes after the deed is done. Not only that, but after going over each crime scene with a fine toothed comb, we find strands of red hair, much like Ascot's here!"

"But Randall has had an alibi for each murder, with a city worth of witnesses to prove it!" Layton argued.

"Convenient, eh? Whose to say it's not someone else under the Mask? After all, most of the city has no clue who the Masked Gentleman is!"

"But—"

"That's enough, Layton!" the Chief snapped. "You are too close to this case to make a clear judgment call!"

"You've said that to me before, Chief Sheffield, and I proved you wrong then as well," the professor challenged.

"That was different. Back then, it was just an acquaintance. This time, it's you're closest friend. No, I won't let you talk me out of this, Layton, and none of your Scotland Yard friends are here to help you this time. Ascot, you're coming with me."

Before anyone else could say a word, Chief Sheffield led the shocked Randall away, pushing him into the back of a police cruiser. Angela's eyes swam with tears, and she turned on Layton.

"I thought you said I had no reason to worry, Hershel! But now he's been arrested!" she yelled, rushing over and hitting her hands against his chest in anger. Layton caught her hands the second time she went to hit him.

"And I meant what I said, Angela. Sheffield is wrong, we all know that. The trick is proving it beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Why don't you start by telling us where Master Randall, and apparently you yourself, have been getting the information about these murders?" Henry demanded, his blue eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms. Layton sighed, sending a silent apology to Alfendi.

"There is a young, brilliant boy who seems able to predict these murders," he admitted. Flora gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

"You don't mean…?"

"Yes, my dear, I do," he said with a nod to Flora, before turning back to face Angela and Henry. "This boy is scared though, and put a lot of trust in myself and Randall. _That_ is why Randall said nothing."

"Oh. But now what…?" Angela asked, allowing her hands to drop from Layton's chest.

"Now, I follow every lead I can to prove Randall's innocence."

…

 **A/N:** I know, I know. You all hate me. That's okay though, life moves on, hehe. I think I'll get one more chapter up tonight.

Until then, ta!


	7. Proving Randall Innocent

**A/N:** Alright, here we go! Time to prove Randall innocent!

Reply to Guest: I'm glad you're enjoying it! I'm sure the true perp is starting to become clear at this point, but we'll see if you're right!

By the way, I see Randall allowing Henry to stay in control of all of the businesses and properties he owns, considering Randall never _wanted_ any of that. That's why Henry still seems so in control in this story.

…

Chapter Seven: Proving Randall Innocent

Due to the late hour, Professor Layton and Flora had to wait until the next morning before they could re-start their investigation.

When the professor left his room that morning, he found Angela and Henry already at the table.

"Ah, Henry, perfect. I was hoping you would give me a list of each of the victims," Layton said, sitting down and smiling warmly at the servant who placed breakfast and tea in front of him.

"Good morning to you, too, Hershel," Henry said with a smile. "I'm glad to see you're taking the investigation seriously. Of course I can give you the list." He reached into his briefcase and produced a list of names, along with their addresses. Hershel studied the list with a nod, folding it and placing it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Just then, Flora came into the room.

"Good morning, Professor, Mrs. Ascot," she said, before noticing Henry. "Oh! Good morning, Mr. Ledore," she added, taking her place at the table. Each of the adults smiled at her, mumbling their replies, before turning back to their discussion.

"So, how do you plan to begin your investigation?" Henry asked.

"Well, to be honest, with you. Henry, is there no way anyone else could play The Masked Gentleman?" Hershel asked, leaning forward. Henry immediately shook his head, while Flora pulled out a notebook to take notes. That was the assistant's job, after all.

"No, of course not. Only Randall knows the ins and outs of his tricks," Henry explained. "Not only that, but Dalston and I are usually overseeing the parade, while Angela is seen by a multitude of witnesses, watching The Masked Gentleman. Other then us, you're the last, able body person who could pose as The Masked Gentleman, and you have alibis for the first four murders," Henry explained. Professor Layton smiled in relief.

"Indeed. Well, that clears up one point of my investigation," he said in a cheerful voice, before sipping his tea. "Sheffield might not believe our word, but if he were to look into all of our alibis, that would be one point of proof."

"What else do you plan to do?" Angela asked.

"I wish to talk to the associates of the victims to see if they even knew Randall. If not, then there would be no motive. As a friend of mine once said, 'no motive, no murder.' Finally, if it is alright with you, Angela, I would like to take a look through Randall's letters and possessions to make sure there is nothing suspicious," he explained. Angela nodded, standing.

"Of course it's alright with me, Hershel. Here, let me go get his things now," she said, rushing off.

"Well, Henry, how are your businesses going?" Hershel asked, turning to the man. Henry shook his head with a small smile.

"Well, actually. I'm still ahead of Dalston in the hotel industry, but that's just a playful rivalry now," he explained, sipping his tea. "Of course, around Carnival, everything always becomes a lot busier."

"Understandable. Carnival does bring in a lot of tourists. Especially with The Masked Gentleman performing Light Miracles now," Layton added, to which Henry chuckled with a laugh.

"Exactly."

Just then Angela returned, setting a box in between Flora and Hershel.

"There you have it. What exactly are you looking for?" Angela asked. Hershel reached in, nodding for Flora to do the same, and pulled out a few already opened letters.

"Just anything suspicious, or coded," he explained.

"Ah. Well then, let us help," Angela offered. Soon, all four were combing Randall's letters, but nothing suspicious, or even remotely connected to the murders, were found, letting Angela breath a sigh of relief.

"That just leaves speaking to the associates of the victims now, Professor!" Flora explained.

"Quite right. Angela, Henry, we're going to take our leave of you now," the professor said, standing and tipping his hat towards the two.

"Of course, Hershel. Do be careful," Angela said, standing and hugging the man. "Also… I'm sorry for hitting you last night."

"It is quite alright, my dear," the professor said with a smile, before leading Flora out.

…

The first four names on the list revealed the victims didn't know Randall at all, only by name. Finally, the professor knocked on the door of Officer Geatin Formant, brother of last night's victim, Ian Formant. After a few moments, the man opened the door.

"Y-yes?" he asked softly, his eyes bloodshot. Without his hat and uniform on, he looked wildly different from the other officers, the professor noticed.

"Officer Formant? I am Professor Hershel Layton, and this is my assistant, Flora. We're investigating the murders, and would like to ask you some questions," Layton said. Formant looked between the two as though unsure, before nodding, letting them in.

"Would you like something? Tea? Water?" the officer asked, although Layton shook his head.

"No, thank you. Officer… do you know if your brother had enemies?"

"Of course he did, Professor. He was a police informant, who had a brother who was a police officer, who lived on Seedy Street. The thing is though, none of the people he informs on have this MO… or are even murderers," the man sighed, flopping into a chair. Flora scribbled his words down as he said them, trying to keep an accurate record for the professor.

"That makes sense," the professor mused, before looking at the officer. "What about the Masked Gentleman?"

"Him? Oh, Ian _adored_ the Masked Gentleman. Went to every show of his, he did, even back when there was the chance of being turned to stone… or into a horse," the officer said with a smile. The professor chuckled.

"It seems most people did, despite the danger," he admitted before taking a deep breath. "One final question. Did he know Randall Ascot?"

"Randall Ascot? You mean the man all of this was built for?" the officer asked, making a vague gesture around, though the professor knew he meant Monte d'Or itself. "No. No one on Seedy Street knows Randall Ascot. Why?"

"Well, that's the man they've detained as your brother's – and the others' – murder," the professor explained. Officer Formant frowned deeply.

"No… that's wrong. None of the victims would have known Mr. Ascot… which means there's no motive…" he said. Professor Layton smiled warmly at the officer.

"Our thoughts exactly, Officer Formant. Thank you for your time."

"Of course. Thank you for working so hard," the officer said, showing the two out.

As they walked down the street, Flora once more went over her notes.

"So, anyone who could have played The Masked Gentleman has an alibi, there was nothing suspicious among Mr. Ascot's possessions, and none of the victims knew him, meaning there is no motive. Am I correct, Professor?" Flora asked, looking up at the man.

"Perfectly," the professor said with a warm smile.

"Then let's get to the police station and prove Mr. Ascot's innocence!" Flora cheered.

…

Sheffield didn't believe it. In fact, he had his officers repeat the actions Layton and Flora already did, only to come down to the same conclusions as they did.

"So, we're back to square one," Sheffield growled as one of his officers lead the now free Randall into the office. He smiled warmly at Hershel and Flora, grateful for their help.

"Not quite, Chief," the professor said.

"Come again?"

"You have hair found at the crime scene. Yes, they might belong to Randall, but he's not the only red haired man in Monte d'Or. Why not to a DNA test on these strands?" he suggested.

"Bloody hell, Layton, why didn't I think of that!?" Sheffield exclaimed sarcastically before frowning deeply. "Oh yeah, I know why. We're such a tiny force that we don't have a forensic officer, or the equipment to DNA test," he snapped.

"Well then…" the professor muttered, pulling his hat over his eyes.

"Um… Scotland Yard has all of that, right? Why can't you ask them?" Flora asked softly.

"Because in the weeks it would take them to get back to us, another three or four murders will have happened!" the man snapped. Flora reached over, grabbing the professor's jacket sleeve and hiding behind it.

"That was uncalled for, Sheffield," Randall said with a frown, crossing his arms. "However, Flora has a point. Send it out, while you continue searching for the murderer."

"Shut your mouth, Ascot, and don't forget you were just behind bars a few minutes ago," Sheffield growled, before sighing. "Alright, find, I'll send it out." With that, the short man turned and stalked off. Randall grinned at Hershel, looping an arm around him as they walked.

"Thank you, Hershel. But now what?"

"We continue our investigation, of course," Hershel said with a smile.

…

 **A/N:** Just a small redirect, like a lot of the Layton games have! I cut one small thing out, but it doesn't effect the story one bit.

The next chapter is where everything starts to fall into place! That'll be written tomorrow, after work!


	8. The Professor's Prediction

**A/N:** Here we go, guys! The next chapter is here now!

 **Review Reply to Gamergirl:** Things are about to start getting ironed out now! I'm hoping I can finish the story today, hehe. And it's fine. I thought it might be you, but I didn't want to assume, haha. Thanks! Your encouragement is much appreciated!

…

Chapter Eight: The Professor's Prediction

"I'm glad it's a weekend," Randall said as he, Layton, and Flora made their way back to Ascot Estate. "That way, I didn't miss class, and I can help with the investigation," he said with a grin. The professor chuckled at his old friend.

"Of course," Layton said with a smile, crossing his arms in thought, thinking back to the list of victims. "Hm…"

"Hershel?" Randall asked, noticing his friend slow to a halt, his eyes closed, a hand cupping his chin. Both he and Flora stopped as well, watching the professor.

Just then, Hershel gasped softly, his opening his eyes.

"That's it!" he said.

"What's it?" Randall asked. He shook his head.

"Let's return to Ascot Estate, so that Henry and Angela can hear as well," the professor said, striding forward. Flora and Randall glanced at each other in confusion before following after the determined man.

…

"What is this about, Hershel? Do you think you've solved the puzzle?" Randall asked once he, Layton, Flora, Henry, and Angela were gathered in the parlor of the Ascot Estate. The professor paced in thought, the others scattered around on the two couches.

"Almost," he said, stopping and turning to face the others. "I do know, however, that there will be a murder, tonight, in Pumpkin Park," he added in a grave voice, surprising the others.

"Wh-what!?" Angela gasped.

"How do you know this, Hershel?" Henry demanded.

"Did _he_ come talk to you?" Randall asked. Hershel shook his head.

"Not at all, Randall. It is actually quite simple, if one studies the pattern of the killer," he explained.

"The pattern?" Flora asked.

"Indeed. Each victim was a resident of Seedy Street, killed in a deserted area at the time of the parade," the professor started.

"Well, that much was obvious," Henry said. The professor nodded in acknowledgement to this.

"Of course, these murders only happened on the nights that _The Masked Gentleman performed_ , and they're following a course through the city, leading straight to the park," Hershel finished, and gasps erupted around the room.

"Why only when I perform?" Randall demanded.

"Probably because the Light Miracles guarantee every eye in the city will be on you," Hershel explained.

"Wow… we should go tell the police," Angela said. Hershel nodded once more.

"Yes. Once the parade starts, you should. By then, the killer will have already entered the park with his intended victim."

"'You' should?" Flora asked, catching the professor's wording. "Professor… what are you going to do?"

"I will confront the killer and stall for time, so that he does not shoot his victim," the professor said, his eyes blazing with confidence and determination.

…

The professor quickly moved through Pumpkin Park, only slightly surprised that it was so empty. However, with The Masked Gentleman performing, it truly was no surprise.

He was alone, having made Flora promise, from the bottom of her heart, not to follow. After all, this would be more dangerous then most of his other adventures, and even though she was now his assistant, he couldn't truly put his charge, the girl who was like his daughter, in such danger.

It was behind the rollercoaster that he finally found someone.

"Fallerd Smith," he said, stepping into the man's view. His heart then thudded against his ribcage when he recognized the second person present, being held in place by Fallerd's gripping the back of his neck.

Alfendi.

…

 **A/N:** Short, yes, but this was just an explanation chapter. The story is just about to hit its peek!


	9. The Sixth Victim

**A/N:** Here we go!

 **Reply to Gamergirl** : It definitely isn't! But things are about to take a twist in this chapter. I am trying! There's only one more chapter after this one, so lets see if I can!

…

Chapter Nine: The Sixth Victim

"Well, well, if it isn't Professor Hershel Layton," Fallerd sneered.

"Let the boy go, Fallerd," Hershel said, unable to believe this turn of events.

"What, Layton, scared I'll kill him?" he asked, giving Alfendi a small shake. Alfendi let out a tiny whimper. "After all, I know why you're here. And I can already tell you, heh, you're correct," Fallerd smirked at the confused professor in front of him. This was a lot easier then the professor had expected, and he was starting to realize that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

"You killed those five people?" the professor asked cautiously.

"Didn't I just say that?" the man snapped, causing Alfendi to flinch under his hand. The man looked down at his son with a sneer before looking up at the professor again. "But I won't just stop at five. Oh no. In fact, my next victim is standing right in front of me." With a smirk, Fallerd reached behind his back with his free hand, pulling a pistol from his waist band, and swung it up, training it directly on the professor's heart.

 _Ah. Alfendi's not his intended victim…_ the professor thought, working hard to keep a clear head. _I am._

"I hardly know you, Fallerd. What possible motive could you have to kill me? Or even any of the others?" the professor asked, knowing he had to keep the man talking in order to give the others time to find them with the police. Fallerd let out a bark like laugh, causing Alfendi to flinch again.

"Motive, professor? My only motive is the beauty of murder. The gore and blood as it splashes against the ground… the thrill of the kill… that moment you see the light of life… of intelligence… fade from their eyes…" Even the ever stoic professor couldn't help but shiver at the low, almost sing-songy voice in which Fallerd spoke, and the devilish gleam in his eyes.

That was enough for Alfendi. He liked the professor. In fact, Professor Layton was the only one who had spoke to him as more then just some kid. He challenged him intellectually, praised him, even made Alfendi feel it was safe to smile. To see the professor in this position now…

"Please, Dad… leave him alone… please don't kill him," Alfendi pleaded, looking up at the man. Fallerd growled at his son.

"Quite, boy, before I cut out your tongue!" he snapped, and Alfendi flinched, pressing his lips together.

Fallerd suddenly got an idea. He'd always wanted his son, his boy, to travel in his footsteps and to understand things from his point of view, but Alfendi had always been too… meek.

Perhaps it was time for a little wakeup call.

Reaching down, he pressed the gun into Alfendi's hand.

"Alfendi, my boy, it's time for you to understand," he said, before turning him to face the very surprised professor. "Kill him."

"Wh-what!? But I can't… Dad, I can't!" Alfendi cried, his eyes huge. Impatience got the better of Fallerd.

"Do it!" he snapped, shoving Alfendi forward.

 _BANG!_

Professor Layton cried out in pain, dropping to one knee as pain coursed through his body, originating from his left shoulder. He gingerly put his right hand to that spot, only to find blood when he pulled it away.

Alfendi stared at the man in front of him, his amber eyes wide and blank, the hand holding the gun trembling. His young mind couldn't process the fact that he'd just shot someone.

"You missed," his father growled next to his ear.

"The gunshot came from this way! Hurry!" voices called, and suddenly, a crowd surrounded them.

"Hershel!?" Randall yelled.

"PROFESSOR!?" Flora cried, fear lacing her voice. She could see a trail of red running down his limp, left hand.

"Stay back!" he yelled, his eyes glued on Alfendi.

Alfendi lowered his head, his unruly, red locks covering his eyes.

"The beauty of murder, Father?" he asked, his voice cold. Fallerd grinned when sensing the change in the boy, sensing that he had become something a lot closer to himself, rather then the meek boy he had been.

"Yes, Alfendi," the proud father said.

"Hm…" Alfendi lifted his head, studying the downed professor. Layton's blood ran cold when he noticed the look in his eyes.

It was the same exact look in Fallerd's eyes.

"Perhaps you're right. Murder can be a beautiful thing." The boy suddenly swung his gun up.

"Drop the gun!" multiple officers yelled, aiming their own guns at the boy.

 _BANG!_

…

 **A/N:** Dun DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

Okay, onto the next chapter now… heh.


	10. Alfendi Layton

**A/N:** Sorry for the break! I wanted to wait for my main three reviewers to read and review, then my mom made me go to the store with her, haha.

I hope you enjoyed the last chapter, hehe.

 **Review Reply to Gamergirl** : I love writing Potty Prof, hehe. Fallerd will pay, no worries! I should have made it more clear though: Alfendi accidently pulled the trigger when he was pushed.

Well, here we go!

…

Chapter Ten: Alfendi Layton

Silence followed the bang, everyone staring in shock.

Fallerd grabbed his chest, just over his heart, as blood blossomed across the front of his shirt. Alfendi's eyes grew wide as he watched his father, the man who had raised, threatened, and beat him, fell to the ground, a bullet in his heart.

The gun dropped from Alfendi's hand, hitting the ground with a clatter, and he stumbled back. The professor pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to the scared boy, wrapping his right arm tightly around him as he fell back to his knees in a fierce hug. Alfendi turned his face into Hershel's chest, shuddering.

The police moved forward, studying Fallerd.

"He's dead," Sheffield murmured before looking over to where Hershel was hugging Alfendi. "He killed him."

"He was protecting me, and himself," Hershel explained. "Fallerd is your man, Chief Sheffield."

"What?" he asked, surprised. A paramedic cut him off, however, by rushing over to the professor.

"Professor Layton, I need to look at your shoulder," he said. The professor shook his head.

"No. Please look to Alfendi first," he insisted. The paramedic hesitated, before noticing the adamant look on the man's face, and turned to the boy. It took a little coaxing, but Alfendi finally let himself be pulled away from the Professor and lead away.

"Layton, what happened here?" Sheffield demanded.

"Fallerd Smith is your serial killer," he explained, putting a hand to his wounded shoulder, which was bleeding heavily. The pain had disappeared, replaced by an all enveloping numbness, and he recognized the beginning symptoms of his body going into shock. "I was to be his latest victim, no doubt due to my meddling in both the investigation and his son's life, but he decided to make Alfendi shoot me instead."

"As he did," Henry said, motioning to Layton's shoulder.

"By accident. He protested, and Fallerd pushed him forward, causing Alfendi to accidently pull the trigger. That's when you all arrived, and you…know the... rest..." the professor said, though his words seemed a little more breathless.

"Hershel?" Randall knelt next to the man, putting a hand to his cheek to get his attention, noticing the cold, clammy feel of his skin. He suddenly realized the same thing the professor had moments earlier.

"Someone get a medic over here! His body is going into shock!" he yelled, just as Professor Hershel Layton slumped to the side, falling unconscious.

…

No one wanted to adopt Alfendi Smith. He was a damaged child; the son, and the killer, of the infamous Single Bullet Murderer.

He didn't get along with the other children of The Monte d'Or Orphanage. In fact, most of the kids were scared of the new addition to the home. He was sharp when he did speak to them, a lot of anger – no, passion – just simmering beneath the surface.

Alfendi was just as alone now as he was living under his father's rule.

…

About two weeks after the death of Fallerd Smith, Professor Hershel Layton and his charge, Flora, made their way to The Monte d'Or Orphanage. Hershel had a plan, one that Randall thought was brilliant.

"Hi, may I help you?" the woman at the front desk asked.

"Yes. My name is Hershel Layton. A Mrs. Grange called me to tell me that my background check had come back clean?" he said with a warm smile, adjusting his top hat.

"Oh, of course!" the woman said with a warm smile. "That would be me. So, you would like to adopt one of our little angels?" she asked.

"Of course. There's one in particular that I had in mind, in fact," the professor said. "An Alfendi Smith?"

The woman's face fell, and she fidgeted with her papers.

"Professor… I feel as though… another kid would make you much happier," Mrs. Grange said. The professor shook his head.

"No. Alfendi is the child I would like adopt. After all, if it weren't for him, I would have faired much worse then this," he said, motioning to the sling his left arm hung in. Mrs. Grange started slightly in surprise, before sighing.

"Well, alright. This way. He'll be in his room around this time," she said, leading the professor deeper into the house. Flora followed close behind, happy that she had never ended up in a home like this.

Alfendi sat on his bed, his back nestled against his pillows, a puzzle book in his lap with a notebook next to him. Since no one wanted to talk to him, Alfendi had taken to scouring the reading room for books that he could read. Just the other day, he found this book, and was working on one of the more difficult puzzles.

Mrs. Grange knocked lightly on the door, catching the boy's attention. He looked up, his eyes glancing slightly over the woman, before looking directly at Hershel.

"Professor!" he gasped, jumping to his feet and darting over. Hershel smiled, kneeling down and letting the four year old hug him. "I was worried when they took you out of Pumpkin Park unconscious…"

"I am quite alright, my boy. No worries," he said soothingly. "Just a bum shoulder. It'll mend in a few more weeks."

"Um… alright. But… what are you doing here?"

"Well, Alfendi, my boy, it seems as though you are in need of a permanent home, and I would like to extend an invitation to mine," he explained. Alfendi's eyes widened slightly, before becoming guarded.

"Why would you want me? I'm the son of the man who nearly killed you. For _fun_ ," he growled, pulling away and turning his back on the man, crossing his arms. Layton shook his head, reaching forward and putting a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

"First and foremost, my boy, you are nothing like that man. Secondly, you saved my life."

"I shot your shoulder."

"A complete accident."

"But—"

"Alfendi," the professor said softly, cutting the boy off. "I will not force you to allow me to adopt you, but I would very much like to do so. And I can teach you, and give you space to allow your mind to grow," he offered. Alfendi turned back to look at the professor, remembering the safe feeling he'd felt when they last met, and how… _happy_ he felt the time before.

Alfendi never felt the love of a true father, but he felt, with the professor, he came pretty close.

"Alright. Thank you… Father."

…

 **A/N:** D'aw! Alfendi! He's so cute!

Right now, he's not _as bad_ as he is in Mystery Room, but there are moments where comes pretty damn close (like in the last chapter when he first snapped, heh).

And now we know how and why Professor Layton met and adopted the boy who would become known as Alfendi Layton. It's so sweet!

My next story will be "Sir Prosecutor." Until then, ta!


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